I overtook her in the park a quarter of an hour ago, and she is already in the house, wondering why you are so late down on your birthday." Roger sprang up and resumed his toilet.
"Has she really come?
Armstrong, I say, I wish I knew how to make her care for me." "I'm not an expert in these matters, but it occurs to me that the sort of thing you want is not made." "You mean that if she doesn't care for me for what I am, it's no use trying to get her to care for me by being what I am not." "Roger, you have a brilliant way occasionally of putting things exactly as they should be put." "That's not much consolation," pursued the boy.
"Possibly," said the tutor; "but, as I say, I am not an expert in these delicate affairs.

Much as I would like to prescribe, I rather advise your taking a second opinion--your mother's, say.

I was engaged to teach you classics and the sciences, but the art of love was not included among the subjects to be treated of." Mr Armstrong was late for breakfast that morning.

For some reason of his own he wasted ten minutes at his piano before he obeyed the summons of the gong, and the chords he played were mostly minor.

But when he did appear his glass was fixed as jauntily as ever, and his pursed lips looked impervious to any impression from within or without.
To his surprise, he found Miss Jill waiting outside the door.
"I didn't mean to go in," said she, "where that horrid man is, till you came.